


The Dress

by Medie



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven's lived a lifetimes of other people's memories, just once she'd like one all her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dress

It was just a construct of cloth. Pieces of soft velvet material in a deep shade of green stitched together in a shape pleasing to the human eye. Irrelevant to any function of her duties aboard ship.

Yet...

Taking the dress in hand, the former drone's eyes lingered on the soft material then moved to her own jumpsuit. The Captain and the others had been encouraging her to explore what it meant to be 'human', but none of them had mentioned anything like this. So why had she replicated it?

A memory floated up to her, one that was not her own, and she recalled how that woman had felt the first time her husband had seen her in a dress, the look of awe and wonder on his face and how beautiful she'd felt.

A pang laced through Seven's heart, grief at knowing the woman to whom the memory belonged was now a drone, her individuality lost in the single, uniform consciousness of the Borg.

Brushing her fingers across the dress, Seven allowed herself the chance to appreciate its soft feeling and the resulting emotions it evoked in her. It was that wish, spurred by the memories of others, to experience these feelings for herself, that haunted her. But she could not, for there was no one who would look at her as the man in the memory had looked the woman to which the memory had belonged.

Her expression hardening, Seven dropped the dress onto the console, striding away with a muttered, "Irrelevant."

Stopping before her alcove, Seven stood with her back to the dress, entering commands in a console and attempting to push the very thought of it from her mind. She succeeded, for the most part, but the tiny whisper of it persisted. A quiet, alluring siren song that persisted in its beckoning.

Like the proverbial moth to a flame, Seven returned to the dress, staring down as if hypnotized.

To replicate it and not even wear it would be a waste of replicator rations and resources, she rationalized, picking up the garment again. She could not be so careless, not if she wished to be an appropriate example for junior crew. All perfectly logical.

Her lips formed a small smile. Perfectly logical.

-

The material slid across her skin with a rich, luxurious feel that had the little girl within her clapping with childlike glee. Turning slowly, Seven couldn't resist the urge to look down and watch the skirt flare about her legs. A soft, swishing noise accompanied the movement and she tried the motion again, a little faster.

A genuine smile graced her lips and she ran her hands down her torso, smoothing out wrinkles in the dress. She did feel different while wearing it, which made no sense. There was no reason a simple dress could cause a shift in her emotional state. Yet it had.

Spinning for the third time, Seven froze when she saw Commander Chakotay standing just inside the cargo bay doors, staring at her. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to explain but closed it again when she abruptly realized the expression on his face was familiar. It was the very expression she'd seen in her 'borrowed' memory.

She met Chakotay's awed gaze and he summoned up a smile. "You look beautiful."

To her confusion, blood bloomed in her cheeks, tinging them a rosy color and she belatedly understood she was embarrassed at being 'caught'. But, just as she was embarrassed, she was complimented as well. "Thank you," she replied quietly. "Is there something you require, Commander?"

Chakotay seemed to start, as if pulling himself out of a daydream, and chuckled slightly. "I did, but it can wait." He walked forward. "New dress?"

"Yes." She looked down at it once more. "I replicated it this morning."

"It's lovely," he said frankly, smiling. "What brought this on?"

Seven hesitated, her hand resting on the smooth material of the dress. "A memory... A woman, now a drone, in a similar situation. I wished...I wished to experience the sensations for myself. It felt wrong to continue to relive her memory. Like I was an intruder."

"A very sensitive decision, Seven," Chakotay said, softly. It wasn't rational that she be so pleased by his words, but Seven had come to understand rationality and emotions rarely met any common ground. "But what exactly was this memory?"

Drawing in a breath, Seven considered the memory that was still so clear in her mind. "She attended a dance, a party. It was the first time she had attended such an event with her spouse. They danced. She wore a dress similar to this, and I wished to know how it felt, truly know for myself, to wear one like it."

Chakotay nodded. "And?"

She raised a brow. "And what?"

He grinned a little. "How does it feel?" 

Seven considered it. The answer was a complicated one. Not willing to delay her answer, she settled on, "Pleasant."

"Just pleasant?" Chakotay said, his grin widening.

Seven felt herself return the smile. "Should it be more so?"

"Well," Chakotay looked at her again, his expression slightly thoughtful. "A dress that fantastic? I'm not an expert, of course, but yes, I think it probably should be more than just pleasant."

Again, Seven felt herself considering the situation and her responses to it. Chakotay did not think himself an expert, but an argument could be made that he did have more experience than her. For this reason alone (although her emotional state at present did suggest there were other motives afoot on both their parts) she was willing to grant his words more weight. "Perhaps then, some adjustments need to be made."

"Hmm, I wouldn't rule it out," Chakotay agreed. 

Looking down at herself, then at him, Seven steadied herself. For as much as she understood the reasons, that she felt so nervous in Chakotay's company seemed strange. Almost as much as the shift in her perception of him. Curious that details she had always taken for granted (appearance, scent, physical presence) now became so very important. "Perhaps you might suggest some?" she asked, fascinated by the way he seemed to be reacting to her. 

"Just a minor thing or two. Like," he took another step forward and raised a hand. He nodded toward her hair then, asking, "Do you mind?"

Seven forced herself to remain still. "Proceed."

He smiled, but it was not the confidence of earlier. Now, he seemed nervous. Hesitant. Physical reaction seemed to indicate arousal. Interest. Seven felt her cheeks heat with the awareness of it. 

"That's better," Chakotay said softly. "Now," Glancing upward, he requested a selection of music. "I believe, in this situation, the appropriate question is - may I have this dance?"

She froze for a brief moment, looking from his waiting arms to his smiling face, then - with her heart in her throat - she stepped forward.

With the greatest of care, Chakotay took one of her hands in his, placing her other on his shoulder, then slipped an arm about her slim waist and pulled her closer. "Start slow." He encouraged gently. "No pressure." He waited a beat then slowly began to guide their movement about the room.

Forcing herself to forget about the particulars of the dance and every other distraction that intruded into her consciousness, Seven met his gaze and was surprised at the way her heart rate and respiration suddenly shot up, and was even more surprised by the way his reciprocated.

"Don't," he murmured softly. "Don't analyze, just feel."

She smiled. "Sage advice, Commander." 

He chuckled. "I think, considering the circumstances, you can call me Chakotay."

The dance seemed to last forever and yet, she knew that it lasted only a few moments. Her internal chronometer could time it right down to the nanosecond but she didn't. She forced her attention away from it and onto the dance, the surprising way their bodies moved together in a pattern that seemed effortless, natural. An instinctive choreography that she would have thought only those of a shared mind could produce. It was...quite pleasurable.

As the music came to an end and the movement of their bodies ceased, they were slow to step back, lingering far longer than was socially acceptable, both loathe to speak.

Finally, she offered a soft smile and an inclination of her head. "Thank you for the dance--Chakotay."

His smile was brilliant. "Thank you for accepting the offer." Turning, Chakotay started to leave, but stopped and gave her a grin of pure mischief. "And the next time you feel the urge to make a memory..." He gestured to his comm badge. "Just call."

Long after the doors had swished shut behind him, Seven quietly voiced her response. "I will."


End file.
